


lost kitten

by catteeth



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bottom Akechi Goro, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degradation, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29968914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteeth/pseuds/catteeth
Summary: Suddenly, the ship rocks to the side. It’s soft enough not to tumble him over from where he hides in the doorway but hard enough to leave him gripping at the wall. He hates, hates,hatesthis place—The cognition’s eyes lock with Goro's. It stares, unblinking and blank.While heading to the engine room in Shido's palace, Goro sees something sick.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Shido Masayoshi, Cognitive Akechi Goro/Shadow Shido Masayoshi
Kudos: 19





	lost kitten

**Author's Note:**

> Dead dove: do not eat. Title shamelessly stolen from Metric's song of the same name.

“Captain,” Goro—the fake one—says, unfettered and needy. “Please. Use me as you like.”

Goro doesn’t want to watch, but he cannot look away. His cognitive self is prostrate on the hard wood of shadow Shido’s desk, legs open and inviting in a show of neediness and submission. Its eyes are lifeless, robotic, but somehow it seems real enough, wearing Goro’s same face and body. Though it’s true that the real Shido has never seen Goro naked, the cognition looks so accurate that it’s almost worrisome. Even its _cock_ looks like Goro’s, the same delicate, curved shape, the same shiny pink head. 

It’s sick and it’s wrong, but most of all, it’s _unfortunate_. Just another cog in the wheel of Goro’s steadily growing irritation. Already, he feels as though he’s flirted just a little too casually with his own luck. _Sloppy_ is what he is. Kurusu is still alive, after all. He and the rest of the Phantom Thieves are probably already halfway to the treasure, and Goro needs to hurry if he wants to catch up. He is so, so tired, but, even more than that, he’s fucking mad.

Suddenly, the ship rocks to the side. It’s soft enough not to tumble him over from where he hides in the doorway but hard enough to leave him gripping at the wall. He hates, hates, _hates_ this place—

The cognition’s eyes lock with Goro's. It stares, unblinking and blank.

But, it does nothing. Just smirks with its identical cherry-pink mouth, jacks its cock off in long, easy strokes. Reaches down below its balls—clean-shaven, just like Goro’s—to its hole, and teases itself until it’s grabbing at shadow Shido’s shirt just for something to hold on to.

Goro sweats. He doesn’t want to get called out, or in this case, called _in_. Vaguely, he wonders why the cognition doesn’t alert shadow Shido of his presence. He’s been walking around the ship for hours now at this point, trying to figure out the best vantage point to ambush Kurusu and his team. Though he’s made careful of work it, it’s possible that they already know— _have_ known—and just don’t care. It’s not like Goro is necessarily a threat in the palace of a man that’s hired him. At least, for now.

He slinks closer to the wall, cautious. Even from here, on the complete opposite end of the room, he has a view that’s clear as day. Shadow Shido’s back is turned, but the cognition is on display like a cheap whore, legs wide and begging for it.

Goro can see it all, too: the hardened buds of its nipples that protrude from a shucked open school-issued button-down, pink and pretty like they belong to a real human and not a cognitive fake. Its mouth, its tongue, the same identical bottom tooth that crooks slightly to the left that Goro never got fixed. The details are so lovingly precise that it makes him want to cry.

A thin, watery string of seminal fluid, then—the same one that drips from Goro when milked for too long, overstimulated and close—drips out from the cognition's slit. It leaves a messy smear on the otherwise immaculate expanse of shadow Shido’s desk.

He tsks.

“Akechi,” shadow Shido says, voice low and deep. There is a split second of panic in which Goro thinks he’s been caught, but the back of his head doesn’t move. “This is a very expensive piece of furniture.”

The cognition snaps its attention back, all smiles, beautiful and camera-ready like a doll. “I’m sorry, sir.” It’s the perfect picture of platitude. “Shall I lick it clean like last time?”

Goro thinks he might vomit right here, right now, all over the carpeted hallway floor. This is what Shido really thinks of him. He is just someone pliant, _subservient,_ a willing and open hole. Though he’s played his part well, Goro has just ended up like his mother in the end. Reduced to nothing more than a pretty fucktoy in Shido’s eyes.

“Later,” he says, undoing the buckle on his belt and pulling himself out. 

His cock is large. It’s larger than Goro has ever imagined (because he _has_ imagined it), a thick piece of flesh that looks even bigger compared to his own cock that’s mirrored in the cognition. Maybe it’s just the flattering effects of the Metaverse—Shido does seem the type to exaggerate, Goro figures, especially in the nondiscriminatory depths of his own distorted heart—and yet, he can picture it so well. His own father, _powerful_ , with a massive cock that fucks in the same way he does everything else: hard, forceful, and quick, with such an exact precision that it makes even the most minor of fuck-ups impossible.

Involuntarily, _silently_ , Goro's gauntlets sink into the meat of his thigh, threatening to tear at the bodysuit’s thin fabric as he holds his breath. Something horrifying clicks in his brain. It’s a thought that filters out down through his body and settles uneasy but heavy in his cock, now thick and swelling with blood. 

It’s that shadow Shido has been inside the cognition’s—and, by proxy, _his_ —ass. 

He swallows down the saliva that swells inside his mouth from nausea. Is that wrong? It’s definitely wrong, and weird, and disgusting—but, also, somehow flattering, a compliment of sorts. Inside his own palace, a secret place of his own truest desires, this is what his father has chosen to do.

Goro doesn’t notice they’ve already started fucking until he hears his own voice—distorted, hollow and tinny—crying out.

“Captain,” the cognition whines, eyes closed and legs wrapped around shadow Shido’s waist in a vice grip. Its toes curl and uncurl with what Goro can only assume is excruciating pleasure. “Too slow...”

“If you want it,” he says, “beg like the dog you are.” 

It only makes Goro harder, aroused enough to rub the flat edge of his palm against himself.

“Please, sir—I want more of your cock. I _need_ it,” the cognition says. Its whimpers grow louder now, its hips moving on their own accord. The thing is obviously trained well, built to please, a loud and whorish thing with a dirty mouth. “Fuck my ass, please.”

Goro is jealous. That’s what this is, he realizes: a fit of hot, sickening jealousy. Faster, he rubs himself over his clothes, squeezes at his balls until it starts to hurt. How would Shido fuck him, he wonders? In reality, would he be this composed, this _good_? And himself, how would he ever be able to stand it without completely unraveling beneath his hands?

“Go on.” Shadow Shido is pulling out, now, and slamming back in, evident from the way his back muscles tense with the force of it. “Louder, Akechi. Go on, say it.”

“Yes, captain, yes. Anything—I’m, I’m your good boy.” Its eyes open again, blank but with an indescribable fire as it searches for Goro’s in the doorway. Its mouth opens with too many teeth when it leans up into shadow Shido’s ear and moans. “ _Daddy_.”

The ship rocks again. Everything, slow motion. Goro, coming hard against the confines of his Black Mask costume, barely having even touched himself. The cognition, smiling at him as it watches, as it takes Shido's big cock—

This is just another instance of bad luck. A coincidence.

He doesn’t stay to watch them finish. When he presses the eye icon on the MetaNav app, the cognition’s loud screaming echoes and distorts along with his surroundings, rolling further and further away until disappearing completely. But, even after, when his feet hit the pavement outside of the Diet building, his ears still ring with it: the soft _plap_ of his father’s own balls against his ass. _Daddy, daddy, daddy_.

It’s snowing when he heads for the station. Though the Metaverse is gone, and the evidence of his orgasm along with it, Goro feels as though there is a burning wetness that seeps through his clothes and betrays him.

He walks briskly, like he’s running away from something. It’s cold enough for a heavy coat, and yet he’s sweating. It trickles down his neck onto his back, and on the train home, he peels at his shirt like it’s summer, flattens a series of invisible wrinkles on his slacks in order to wipe more easily at his palms. He wants to shower, to scrub at his skin until it turns red and raw. Passively, he daydreams about sloughing it all off with something sharp. 

The pre-recorded operator announces the stops in her monotonous voice. 

_Shinjuku_. _Nakano_. _Koenji_.

It’s three more stops until Kichijoji.

 _There,_ he swears he hears the intercom say. _That’s him. The boy who gets off to his own father._

_A vile and disgusting thing._


End file.
